


Spontaneous

by Heart_Seoul_Soshi



Category: Descendants (Disney Movies)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 10:59:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15435621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heart_Seoul_Soshi/pseuds/Heart_Seoul_Soshi
Summary: Evie accepts a deeply-buried truth about herself just as a deeply-beautiful girl crosses her line of sight.





	Spontaneous

**Author's Note:**

> from an anonymous request on tumblr

Evie’s pretty and blue-tipped fingers smudged with black as she distractedly rubbed at the “X” glistening wetly on the back of her hand. She would never try to weasel her way into a drink while underage at a nightclub, or anywhere for that matter, but still, the Sharpie “X” spared any and all parties the potential hassle. It wasn’t like her to be at the bar of a nightclub in the first place, not in the slightest, but then again, Evie was having several very off weeks.  
  
Like most problems in life, it started with a boy. Not one breaking her heart and sending her to a dark dancefloor to drown her sorrows in a root beer and an earsplitting beat, but one muddling her mind and straining her senses as everyday grew into a struggle to figure out why, how, when. Why did her heart sink and her breath sigh everytime Doug’s name blinked to life on her phone? How many more excuses could she come up with to avoid him when he asked for a date or a night out? When did dating Doug become a confusing game of hide and seek, just very much without the seek?  
  
He was kind, and sweet. Considerate and always there in a heartbeat when Evie felt she needed a listening ear or one very big hug. Doug seemed to be everything a girl could want. Evie should’ve counted herself very lucky.  
  
But alas, a very different adjective was the recurring theme of her life over the past few weeks. Not lucky, no—color Evie confused. Confused as to why the perfect boyfriend was not painting the perfect smile on her lips and filling her heart with the perfect warmth, and living through a very strange and discordant series of days where the gears in her mind somehow started to whirr around the jarring possibility that maybe it wasn’t Doug, and maybe it wasn’t her.  
  
Maybe she just had a problem with the “boy” part of “boyfriend”.  
  
Hence, confusion. Hence, her head pounding in a nightclub and a straw clinking the ice in her glass around and around as she wound up picking a place she could barely hear herself think in to do some serious thinking.  
  
By her second root beer, she was done thinking. She was highly intelligent after all, it didn’t take her long to problem solve, not even a problem as big and troubling as an apparent crisis of sexuality. If it had only been Doug, she wouldn’t even be having this conversation with herself right now, but as she looked back, it clearly wasn’t just Doug. It was all the girls whose close friendships she’d craved over the years, where she felt most at home with her head laying on their shoulders, where a lazy smile teased at her lips when she sat behind them in class and brushed her fingers through their hair while a teacher droned on at the head of the room.   
  
It was the sick and bitter feeling that took root somewhere inside when those friends got boyfriends, and the angry avoidance that came standard when those boyfriends eventually became part of the clique. Evie on more than one occasion had been guilty of cutting off close friends entirely over incessant gushing about boys and dates and anniversaries and goodnight kisses. Only rarely was she ever spitefully called out for it, accused of jealousy and the inability to celebrate another’s happiness because she wanted to snatch that happiness for herself. She didn’t realize it at the time, of course, but something rather akin to that always  _was_  at play, except she wasn’t jealous that a friend had gotten the boy.  
  
She was jealous that a boy had gotten the friend.  
  
Evie, deep down, clearly had her suspicions even before her night of self-reflection in two rounds of bubbly soda, because ending things with Doug had come first and foremost. Not being able to give him a straight answer when he desperately asked  _why_ things were ending came next. Her car and her heeled feet bringing her to a nightclub to park at the bar and daydream about girls came last.  
  
It should’ve been obvious, but even those as smart as Evie were entitled to miss a few easy hits every now and then. Middle school memories of countless nights where Evie sat locked in her bathroom crying in the dark because of a best friend should’ve been her first clue. The hot tears and suffocating sobs that filled the air on those nights were in no way the product of troubled friendship—they were the product of heartbreak. The second clue should’ve been the fact that the majority of tears in her life had, in one way or another, had a girl’s face at the other end of them. If not a friend, then an ex-friend, if not an ex-friend, then a could-be friend who wouldn’t even give Evie the time of day.  
  
Hearts only suffered from not being given the time of day if they wanted every waking moment to be spent with the one who held the watch. So, with the ink smeared across her fingers now dry and stuck there on her skin for at least the remainder of the week no matter how hard she scrubbed, Evie knew.  
  
There was a reason she’d never gotten into sports—she played for an entirely different team.  
  
She really was having several very off weeks. When Evie woke up that morning she was sleepy, emotionally worn-out, and straight. Now she was deaf, full of root beer, and gay. Talk about a “Dear Diary” evening. Too bad about not being into sports, because life—with all its mischievous wiles—didn’t even let Evie take a steadying breath before it hurled another fastball at her.  
  
A fastball stitched together with dimples, dark purple hair, and bewitching eyes that seemed to flame in the flashing lights of the dancefloor. In a crowd of dancing bodies, she was the only one stuck firmly on her feet, her hands shoved into the pockets of her leather jacket and her fiery eyes saying she’d rather be anywhere else. If Evie needed anymore proof to back up her latest and greatest self-revelation, this was it; she had never looked at  _any_  guy the way she was looking at this girl now.  
  
God, she was  _beautiful._  Capable of breaking Evie’s heart before Evie even knew her name and, from the looks of it, capable of breaking her face, too. Evie couldn’t take her eyes off of her. Everytime she tried they just kept gravitating back, tracing the up and down line of the girl’s posture and how everything about it was a warning to keep away, from the crossed arms to the calculating tilt of the head. The two friends hovering near her were welcome enough, as evidence by the smile she allowed to be seen in conversation with them, but still, the body language painted a picture of how she wasn’t meant for crowds, blaring music, blinding lights irritating her eyes.  
  
And what eyes they were. Too far away to reveal their color but close enough to entrance Evie, poor confused Evie who was in no fit mental or emotional state to grab her fully-realized attraction to girls by the reins. Like standing small and alone on a towering bridge and being told to not look down, the mystery and the intrigue of those flashing eyes beckoned her, pulling her close to the edge.   
  
What was the worst that could happen if Evie simply went up to her? Well, the broken face was clearly the first thing that came to mind. The broken heart was not too far behind it. From just long and lasting looks she had already built up an idea of this girl in her head, imagination already run wild, and if she wasn’t everything that Evie dreamed she’d be in just the few short minutes she knew of her existence?   
  
Curse her can-do attitude for taking advantage of her fragile mental state.  
  
It was one misguided swell of courage and a body running mainly on sugar that had her up from her stool and leaving the bar behind to weave her way over to life’s fastball of a mystery girl. So maybe she was crazy for it, maybe she wasn’t. Some small shred of her being thought it heard opportunity knocking, and Evie was never one to leave company waiting. The worst that could happen was a broken face and a broken heart, but Evie’s feet were counting on her head to not remember that as she drew closer and closer to the little pixie girl with the dangerous dragon eyes.  
  
“…Hi.”  
  
Evie felt like the whole world had zipped by her entirely too fast when she found herself right in front of her mystery girl, breathlessly uttering a single-syllable greeting into the air like she’d run a marathon just to get this far.  
  
Dangerous dragon eyes turned on her, and when one of the dancing lights from above struck just right…green. A green grassy like a meadow and jade like a treasure trove of gemstones, a green that Evie locked onto so fully and intently that she saw the very instant something other than danger and intrigue blazed to life inside those eyes.  
  
A spark.  
  
“Hey,” the girl said back. “I know you.”  
  
A spark of recognition.  
  
Uh oh. She knew her. A burst of spontaneity and a sudden disregard for the physical well-being of her face had not prepared Evie for this. The worst that could happen to her was getting decked; now she was entertaining the idea of upgrading that to a best case scenario.  
  
“I’ve seen you at school,” the girl went on, not waiting for Evie to question her.  
  
Oh. Gosh. She’d seen her at school. The most beautiful girl on the face of the earth had seen  _Evie,_  known of her existence for more than just the few short minutes that Evie had known of hers.  
  
“I’m Evie.”  
  
Shoot. She hadn’t meant to say that. Why would a beautiful stranger in a nightclub possibly care about that?  
  
“Mal.”  
  
 _Shoot._ That was an amazing name. Already it was echoing wildly and out of control in Evie’s head; Mal, with the jade dragon eyes. Definitely the kind of girl who would unwittingly break Evie’s heart the way other girls had unwittingly broken it before.  
  
Mal’s friends were watching and waiting, waiting for intrusive Evie to get blown off like the curious and out of place stranger she was. But where life had fastballs, it also had curveballs.  
  
While Evie was completely absorbed in seeing her as Mal with the jade dragon eyes, Mal was very busy seeing her as Evie with the luscious chocolate eyes.  
  
“Do you like to dance?” Mal asked, so suddenly it even seemed to surprise her. “…Because I don’t.”  
  
A giggle escaped past Evie’s lips. Mal’s friends were looking on in disbelief, amazed that she’d already wasted this much time on Evie.  
  
“Well, I’m not in the habit of making people do things they don’t want to do,” Evie bit her lip in a cute little reflex.  
  
“So no dance.”  
  
“No dance,” Evie agreed. “Do you like root beer?”  
  
Now it was Mal’s small laughter that filled the air, taking over for all the excited shouts and pulsing beats.  
  
“I do,” she said.  
  
Poor Evie was already so in over her head, already entertaining thoughts of a day when she might rest comfortably on Mal’s shoulder, brush her fingers through Mal’s amazingly purple hair.  
  
“Could I…buy you a root beer?” Evie tentatively asked with a shy smile.  
  
Hoo boy. Evie, in a nightclub, offering to buy a girl a drink. Because  _that_ couldn’t possibly go wrong in anyway.  _“Seize the moment, because tomorrow you might be dead”._  She’d heard that on a tv show once, a long time ago, and it must’ve stuck somewhere in her befuddled brain all this time, because it was that sentiment exactly that tore her away from the bar and got her into this whole topsy-turvy situation in the first place.  
  
“You can buy me a root beer,” Mal said.  _“If_  I get to buy you lunch at school on Monday.”  
  
Judging by how short of breath she seemed to be, Evie’s heart had been racing for quite a while now. She just hadn’t noticed it until Mal and her little smirk were making plans to see her again.  
  
“…Deal,” Evie beamed, sticking with simple one-syllable words so she could have a chance to catch her breath.  
  
Quite a dangerous game she was playing, one that could lead to things like hugs, hand-holding, and kissing if she wasn’t careful. Evie, kissing Mal? A girl she’d just met with what appeared to be the softest, most plush lips in the universe? Was it wrong of Evie to crave a taste?  
  
Suddenly, like a switch being flipped, she no longer cared. As Mal left her friends behind with a wave and started towards the bar, Evie didn’t care in the slightest. Whether she was in over her head, moving way too fast, taking a plunge she was in no way prepared for, it didn’t matter to her anymore. Those were all things to be pondered over sometime in the future, maybe as soon as that next morning, or maybe as far away as months and months.   
  
Whether this was a bad decision or the greatest decision she’d ever make in her entire life, Evie could worry about all of it later. For now she was sipping on a soda and getting to know an attractive and very intriguing girl, feeling more free and lighthearted than she’d ever felt before with every laugh, every smile shared between her and Mal. And when the night came to an end, when hours of conversation made memories in Evie’s head and Mal’s number made its way into Evie’s phone, she felt that maybe she’d gotten a wonderful taste of magic.  
  
The magic of living in the moment, and seizing the day. Something that was going to cling proudly and gleefully to her heart for a long, long time to come. 


End file.
